


Catch Me (Wherever I Fall)

by tictactoews



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, High School, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tictactoews/pseuds/tictactoews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark lives in Detroit. He's a high school student who works part-time at a local Starbucks - a place frequented by athletes from the nearby skating club. Eduardo is an up-and-coming figure skating star who has just moved to Detroit to train with his new coaches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch Me (Wherever I Fall)

**Author's Note:**

> As the barista/figure skating AU combination suggests, this was written for eiirene.  
> I took all sorts of liberties, particularly when it comes to the timelines, so any inaccuracies are intentional and serve the purpose of keeping the figure skating stuff more or less contemporary. 
> 
> All art embedded in this fic is made by eiirene.
> 
> Title from the song "When You Say Nothing at All" by Ronan Keating.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction, based on fictionalized personas as presented in the movie The Social Network. No profit is being made, I don't own anything or anybody.

It could have been worse. 

When Mark’s parents told him that if he wanted this new computer he was going to have to earn the money himself, Mark almost gave up immediately. A job at the age of seventeen probably meant working in retail, or as a waiter – all of which required frequent contact with people and maintaining a pleasant attitude towards the customers. Which, to put it mildly, wasn’t Mark’s forte.

But he really, really needed that equipment.

Which is why now, instead of going on vacation like most of his classmates before their senior year, Mark is standing behind the counter at Starbucks and trying his best to not appear hostile. It’s easier than he anticipated – most of the people who come in for a coffee are too sleepy to be rude or problematic, and they’re happy with their drinks as long as they contain caffeine. And the rest – well, Mark does his best to ignore their attitude and keeps his new computer in mind as he prepares their beverages. 

After a while, he starts to distinguish the regulars.

Mark’s coffee shop is in close proximity to the Detroit Skating Club, which means that a huge part of his clientele are athletes on their way to or from practice. Mark can’t say it’s particularly thrilling; they’re always in a hurry, and they seem to lack manners along with time. The hockey jocks are the worst: they call him per “kid” and all but bark out their orders, complaining when he’s not making them fast enough. Sometimes, he contemplates adding sprinkles to their coffee as a revenge.

Most of all, Mark likes the figure skaters. They’re usually nice, and when Mark hands them their first morning coffee they treat Mark like he’s their savior. In time, he develops a routine with a few of the skaters that come in every morning during his shift. He doesn’t even know their first names, but apparently the love for coffee is enough of an ice breaker, because he and the skaters are on almost friendly terms. 

First, there’s a young, curly-haired boy, not much older than Mark, who sleepily stumbles in every morning, shoots an absent-minded smile at Mark and sits at the counter, rubbing his eyes, until Mark gets him his usual drink. There’s another one – Mark calls him “Sunshine”, whose mood depends mostly on the weather. He’s unhealthily cheerful when it’s sunny, and almost pouting when it’s raining. Mark knows that on the rainy days he’s supposed to put an extra shot of espresso into Sunshine’s drink, which always gets him a grateful smile. 

Then there’s the girl – a very, very pretty girl, who in any other circumstances probably wouldn’t even look at Mark, but apparently, she’s as nice as she is gorgeous, so she never fails to smile brightly at him and wish him a nice day.

Yeah, the job is really not that bad after all. 

**

It’s a day like any other. Mark enters the shop early in the morning, nods hello to his two coworkers who are already behind the counter, and starts preparing the coffee machines as the first customers start shuffling in.

One of Mark’s regulars – the curly-haired skater – is just leaving with his coffee, turning around and waving cheerfully at Mark (nobody has the right to be this chipper on a Monday morning, it goes against nature), when he almost collides with another customer in the doorway. 

“Sorry… oh, hi!” the other guy says, smiling. So, they know each other, even though Mark has never seen the entering guy in his life. He quickly evaluates him: he can’t be much older than Mark. He’s also tall, but skinny, and carries a duffel bag with a Detroit Skating Club logo on it, which means he’s probably a figure skater, too. A new one, then.

The smile the new guy gives Mark when he reaches the counter is even brighter than what he’s used to. Mark starts to wonder if it’s something they put in the ice, because seriously. 

“Hi. Can I get a double espresso, please?” the guy says, and Mark nods, pressing a few buttons on the cash register.

“That would be 2,50,” he informs the guy, who gives him 3$ and drops the change into the tip jar, still smiling. Of course, he would do that.

Mark walks off to make his drink, when the guy speaks again.

“I don’t usually drink that much caffeine, but it’s Monday. I need extra energy for my training,” he says with a quiet, self-deprecating smile at the end. 

Mark raises his eyebrows at him – the customers don’t usually continue the conversations after placing their orders.

“Yes, I figured you’re not going to class with that bag,” Mark says, and gives himself a mental whack upside the head. He’s not supposed to be snarky towards customers, especially those who can become regulars.

But the guy just laughs. “Yes, it’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” He eyes Mark’s nametag. “Mark, right? I’m Eduardo, I’m a figure skater.”

“I figured that, too, no pun intended,” Mark says.

“Oh yeah? And how can you tell?”

“You knew the guy who almost spilled his latte all over you in the doorway. He’s a regular here, and he’s a figure skater. Doesn’t take a genius,” Mark explains, handing Eduardo his coffee. 

“Thanks,” Eduardo says. “I have to go now, but – I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Eduardo looks expectantly at Mark, like he’s not just being polite and actually wants a confirmation that Mark will be there the next morning.

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says, and Eduardo beams at him and leaves.

**

“So, you know who I am, now tell me something about you,” Eduardo says the next morning as Mark is making his coffee. He’s resting his elbows on the counter, propping his chin in his hands, and looking at Mark expectantly. Apart from the two of them, there are only two middle-aged women in the shop, sitting at a small, round table in the corner and sipping at their lattes.

Mark looks up at Eduardo from the coffee machine. “Why?”

Eduardo smiles and shrugs slightly. “I’m nosy, humor me.”

“All I know about you is that you’re a figure skater. That’s not exactly an equal trade for my life story,” Mark says, pouring two shots of espresso into a cup of steamed milk and handing it to Eduardo. He takes it, but doesn’t walk away from the counter.

“Eduardo Saverin, eighteen years old, fresh out of juniors. Moved to Detroit from Miami two weeks ago to train with my new coaches.”

“Any successes?” Mark asks, eyebrows raised.

“Junior World Champion this past season.”

Mark nods, solemnly. “Impressive,” he assesses.

Eduardo grins. “Thank you. Now, did that buy me a little of your story?”

“Perhaps, although I don’t see why…”

“Oh, shit,” Eduardo interrupts him, looking at his watch. “I’m sorry, I’m late. But hey, how about you tell me that story another time? Say, tonight?”

“Um, alright, I guess?”

“I’m not going to offer to take you out for coffee,” Eduardo laughs, a little breathlessly. “And I don’t know a good place to go around here yet. Maybe you know a good pizza place or something?”

“Sure.”

“Great!” Eduardo beams at Mark. “We could meet in front of this shop. Is six okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says. Eduardo gives him one last smile and all but runs out of the coffee shop. Mark stares for a while at the closed door, wondering if he’s just been asked out on a date. And frankly, he doesn’t know what to think if he has. 

Mark has never dated a guy. Well, to be honest, he’s never really dated a girl, either – at least not for long. And he’s not sure if he’s interested in Eduardo. Yes, he’s good looking and nice, and apparently wants to spend time with Mark, which already sets him apart from most people his age. But – a date?

Maybe he’s overreacting. Eduardo is new in town, he’s probably just looking to make new friends and go to a place that’s not an ice skating rink or a Starbucks. Mark can do that. 

He’s going to meet with Eduardo, and then maybe decide if it was meant to be a date.

**

Mark doesn’t know much about sports, but in his mind, figure skating and pizza do not exactly go together - figure skaters don’t even order muffins with their coffee, ever. He supposes Eduardo knows what he’s doing, so Mark probably doesn’t need to ask, but he’s also sitting across from Mark and looking at him expectantly, more amused with every second.

“Are you even allowed to have pizza?” Mark asks, because he’s that savvy in small talk. 

Eduardo leans forward a little, as if he was about to tell Mark an important secret. “Not exactly, no. But what my coach doesn’t know can’t hurt her, right?”

Mark snorts. “Your work ethic is truly admirable,” he says, taking a sip of his coke. Eduardo grins.

“I’m going to work it off, no worries. I don’t eat like that all the time, only… well, on special occasions.”

“Wow. If you consider sitting here with me a special occasion, you’re in dire need of a social life and actual friends.”

“You mean that you’re not my friend?” Eduardo says, amused, and he’s _pouting_. Oh for the love of God.

“Emotional blackmail. Smooth, Eduardo. Is that a way to treat your best friend?” Mark asks, and Eduardo bursts out laughing.

So, Mark guesses they’ve established that they’re friends. And also, that this is definitely not a date. And that’s definitely relief Mark’s feeling, for sure.

“I believe you owe me a story,” Eduardo says when they’re done with the pizza and are just sipping at their cokes. “About your life?” he specifies at Mark’s quizzical look. Oh, right.

“There’s not really much to tell,” Mark says, hoping to get out of this. There really are so many other interesting things to talk about… or there must be, he just can’t think of any right now.

“But I want to hear it. Come on, you promised,” Eduardo says, propping his chin with his hands and looking at Mark attentively. 

_Ugh._

“Fine. But really, it’s boring. I was born in New York, my family moved here a few months ago for my dad’s job – he got promoted, but it required him to relocate. But we figured, Detroit is just as good a place to live as New York, so now I’m here. And that’s pretty much it.”

Eduardo nods, like he’s really interested. “So, you’re a senior in high school?” he inquires.

“After summer, yeah,” Mark says and hopes it’s the end of the topic. He hates talking about himself, and he doesn’t exactly want Eduardo to think he’s some antisocial weirdo, even if he is. He knows it’s going to show if they talk more about Mark. But of course it’s not over.

“Tell me something more. Like, what you do outside school. You know what I do!” Eduardo says with a cheeky smile. 

“You know what I do, too” Mark retorts. “I make people coffee and try not to throw it in the hockey jocks’ faces.”

Eduardo throws his head back, laughing. “They can be douchebags sometimes, can’t they?”

Now, that must be a change of topic right there.

“That’s a fascinating hobby you’ve got there, Mark,” Eduardo says.

_Guess again, Zuckerberg._

“I don’t know what else to say. I usually spend the rest of my time on my computer, that is, when I’m not being asked out.”

“Hmm,” Eduardo hums, thoughtful. “And is that often?”

“Well, yes. I love programming, so I do it every day.”

Eduardo kicks him under the table, but he’s grinning. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I mean. Do you go out often? With people?”

Mark weighs his options for a second and decides to go for honesty. “No. It’s pretty much just tonight.”

He can’t understand why Eduardo looks so happy about this.

**

Eduardo doesn’t come in the next day.

Mark spends most of the morning going over every moment of their conversation from the previous night, looking for anything that might have put Eduardo off him for good. He comes up with nothing, other than his inherent Markness. But he really tried, okay? He tried to be nice and not snarky, and everything normal people do when they want other people to like them, like Mark wants Eduardo to like him. And he really thought it went well.

So why the hell did Eduardo skip his coffee this morning? 

Mark decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he didn’t have practice today (but then he could have come in to have coffee and hang out), maybe he slept in and missed practice (no, not Eduardo), or maybe he’s sick (of Mark?). Looks like there’s more doubt than benefits, after all.

Mark refuses to sit around and pine, though. As soon as he can take a half an hour break, he prepares Eduardo’s usual cup of coffee and heads to the ice rink.

“Delivery,” he mutters to the door guy when he tries to stop him and check his membership card (which, does Mark look like someone that would have one?) Mark shows him the Starbucks cup and his work ID card instead, and the man just nods and waves him through.

The ice rink is almost empty, save for Eduardo on the surface and an Asian woman outside the rink’s boundary, probably Eduardo’s coach.

“Eduardo, really. Eight out of ten isn’t bad, if you keep this up you’ll have this quad by the beginning of the season. Stop beating yourself up, you’re doing a great job!” she’s saying in a confident, reassuring voice, but Eduardo doesn’t look convinced. He’s slowly skating along the boundary, rubbing at his elbow as if it hurts. As if he’s just landed on it instead of his feet. He’s not looking at the woman, or in fact at anything else but the ice.

Neither of them has noticed Mark yet. He feels like he’s intruding, and really - what was he thinking? He could have taken a hint when Eduardo didn’t show up in the morning, but no. He had to follow him to his practice like some kind of a stalker, and disturb Eduardo when he should be focused. _Smooth, Mark, only you._

But then the woman says “Okay, Eduardo, take five. We’ll do one more run-through of your short when you’ve rested a little,” and Eduardo nods, skates over to the exit and finally looks up.

His whole face lights up when he sees Mark, and he hasn’t even noticed the Starbucks cup yet.

“Mark!” he exclaims, leaning on the rink boundary and smiling brightly. It’s so different from what Mark saw a few seconds ago that Mark doesn’t know what to think. “What are you doing here?” Eduardo asks.

“Um… well, you didn’t come in this morning,” Mark says, as if that explained everything. Maybe it does.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I overslept. I barely had time to brush my teeth, let alone stopping for coffee.”

“So I thought you might be in need of this,” Mark says, showing Eduardo the coffee cup and placing it on top of the boundary. Eduardo looks as if Mark just hung the moon in front of him.

“Thank you! Oh my God, thank you so much, you’re a life saver,” Eduardo says, and his smile is so wide that it makes his eyes crinkle in the corners.

Mark just shrugs, because, really? All he did was walk over fifty yards, carrying a cup of coffee. He’s sure it doesn’t merit so much gratitude, but then again, it’s Eduardo. You never know.

Eduardo grabs the cup, removes the lid and takes a sip of coffee, eyelids fluttering with pleasure only a caffeine addict can feel. Mark is definitely not looking at Eduardo’s eyes, or his blissful smile, or the way his throat moves when he swallows.

  


“I have to go, my break is almost over,” Mark says after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Eduardo busy finishing his coffee and Mark busy not watching Eduardo.

“Oh, okay,” Eduardo says brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Um…” Mark cards his hand through his hair. “Actually, you might not. School is starting, so I’m going to be working afternoons now.”

“Oh.” Eduardo’s face falls visibly. “Okay then, we’ll figure something out. Don’t think you can get rid of me that easily,” he adds with a sly smile. Mark can’t help but grin back.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, just when Eduardo’s coach emerges back from the locker rooms. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you.”

“You bet,” Eduardo assures him, skating away backwards. “Thanks for the coffee!” he shouts, when Mark is almost at the exit. 

**

For people like Mark high school sucks on principle, doesn’t matter if it’s in New York or Detroit or anywhere else. Most of the time he feels like he’s invisible, which he prefers to being picked on or bullied. Not that he wouldn’t be able to deal with it, it’s just that it’s incredibly annoying. Being ignored is the best he can hope for, and what he’s happy with.

On his second day of school, so far being blissfully alone and ignored, Mark is fiddling with the lock of his locker when he catches a familiar name in a conversation. He glances over, and sees three girls in cheerleader outfits chattering enthusiastically by the nearby vending machine.

“And I thought it really sucked that he lived in Miami, I mean, what does Florida have to do with skating anyway? But he’s just moved to Detroit! I’m telling you, Eduardo Saverin living here, it’s like I won a lottery,” one of them says, and Mark has to physically stop himself from snorting out loud. “He’s so gorgeous you wouldn’t believe it! It really sucks that I can’t go to Skate America, but my parents just won’t budge. Something about my grades, like that’s even important!”

She sounds whiny and annoying. Mark thinks it’s good that she’s not going to go and harass Eduardo. On the other hand, it would be hilarious to watch.

“That’s a shame,” one of the other girls sympathizes. “Maybe you’ll see him some other time?”

“I hope so,” the first girl lets out a dreamy sigh. “I might actually die if I never get to meet him.”

Mark closes his locker with a thud, smirking. One of the girls looks over at him and apparently, doesn’t like his expression. 

“And what are you looking at, nerd? Go live your no-life and quit listening to private conversations. Move it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. The depth of your discussion overwhelmed me for a while there, but I’m going. Please, by all means, continue gushing over Mr Severin’s ass.”

“It’s Saverin, and you know nothing about his ass, geek!” the first girl exclaims, and promptly blushes brightly red. “That is... I mean… Not that I… oh, bite me!” She turns away and storms off, her friends following. 

Mark walks away, now full-on grinning. 

 

**

To Mark’s endless surprise, Eduardo shows up at the coffee shop half an hour before the end of Mark’s afternoon shift. He smiles at Mark, brightly but almost apologetically.

“Hi, Mark,” he says, approaching the counter.

“Hi, Wardo. Changed your training schedule?” Mark inquires, straightening his apron. Eduardo eyes his outfit with a strange look on his face.

“What? Ah, no. I just… need more caffeine than I thought, apparently. One coffee in the morning is just not doing it anymore,” Eduardo explains, laughing a little breathlessly. 

Mark buys this explanation, because, why not. Caffeine is addictive after all.

“So what can I get you? The usual?”

“Yes, please,” Eduardo smiles at him, and after paying, he drops a dollar in the tip jar. He never fails to do that.

Eduardo sits down at the table closest to the counter and stays there till the end of Mark’s shift. He doesn’t talk to Mark, just keeps reading a book and looks up from it from time to time to smile at Mark, but he’s still a major distraction. Mark usually prides himself on his superior concentration, and yet all it takes for him to almost get a couple of simple orders wrong are a few smiles. From his _friend_ , for crying out loud.

 _Get yourself together, Zuckerberg._

When Mark takes off his apron at the end of his shift, Eduardo gets up, too, and follows Mark out of the coffee shop. The evenings are already a little chilly, but Mark is okay in just his hoodie. Eduardo, however, zips up his jacket and tangles an unnecessarily long scarf around his neck.

“It’s too bad you’re not wearing that apron outside of work,” Eduardo comments randomly. “It looks cute on you.”

“Cute” is the last work Mark (or anyone, for that matter) would ever associate with himself, but he’s already established that Eduardo is definitely not like the rest of the mankind, so he lets it go.

“Maybe you should think about incorporating it into your costume, then,” Mark suggests, and Eduardo laughs. “Although from what I hear, you look cute even without that, so.”

Mark smirks at the sight of Eduardo’s quizzically raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently, you have some hardcore fangirls, and a few of them go to my school. I overheard them talking earlier today, but they’re not big fans of me, so I only heard a little,” Mark explains, but Eduardo just makes an aborted, impatient gesture.

“No, that’s not what I was asking about. What I mean is – you need an outsider’s opinion to realize that I’m cute?” Eduardo says, now full-on grinning.

_Oh, the fucker._

It’s not often that Mark finds himself at a loss for words, but this is one of those rare and unfortunate moments.

“I…I mean- I suppose you’re sort of adequate,” Mark stutters, and Eduardo nearly doubles over laughing. 

“Well, thanks, I’ll try not to blush too much,” Eduardo says, wiping a tear out of the corner of his eye.

Mark doesn’t live far from his work, so they reach his building rather soon.

“This is me,” Mark says unnecessarily when they stop, and Eduardo nods in acknowledgment. “I’d ask you to come in, but it’s late and I have homework. And stuff.”

It feels too much like the end of a date. Mark almost expects a goodbye kiss.

“And stuff,” Eduardo repeats, smiling slightly. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I have a feeling I’m gonna need that second cup of coffee in the afternoon.”

“Careful, Wardo. You can get addicted.”

Eduardo laughs, then gives Mark a strange look and leans in. ”I think I’m already a lost cause,” he says, and Mark freezes for a split second, but all Eduardo does is give him a one-armed hug. When he pulls back from Mark, his eyes are soft and he’s still smiling gently.

“Goodnight,” he says, gives Mark one last wave and starts walking away.

“Night,” Mark whispers, and thinks that he most definitely doesn’t need anyone to tell him how cute Eduardo is.

He’s so fucked.

**

Mark’s at work the day of Eduardo’s first competition, and for the first time ever he regrets they don’t have a TV in the coffee shop. Eduardo texts him, though. On the first day it’s _Meh. Fifth. Will try harder tomorrow_ , but on the second Mark gets an excited _OMGGGGG, THIRD. ARE YOU PROUD OF ME?_

Mark grins at his phone and sends: _Would be if you didn’t overuse capslock. Contain yourself, Eduardo. P.S. But seriously, congrats, that’s awesome!_

Eduardo calls him fifteen minutes after that text.

“You’re damn right it’s awesome!” he says without prelude. “My first senior competition and I make the podium. It’s just… It still hasn’t sunk in,” he finishes breathlessly.”Mark?”

“I’m here, just waiting till you’re done venting,” Mark says. “Congrats.”

“Thanks. And sorry I’m only calling now. I was in a press conference when I texted you.”

“You were texting during a press conference? Seriously?”

“What? It’s not like anybody noticed, everybody was focused on the winner. Who, by the way, is from my skating club. Anyway, I might as well have danced the cha-cha on the table right there, nobody would have paid attention.”

“I have a feeling they would, if you did _that_. I’m glad you didn’t do that, though, I’d be compelled to never speak to you again. And it really puts the texting into perspective.”

Eduardo laughs, then there’s a longer moment of silence.

“I’m so happy, Mark,” he finally says. “I’m so happy I’m not even worried about the next competition yet.”

“But that’s a good thing, right?”

“Um, not really. I mean, if I’m a little nervous it keeps me on my toes. If I’m too confident, I might screw up because I’m not focused enough. And there’s still the possibility that I will screw up just because I suck, and that one time was just a stroke of luck.”

“Wardo, you’re a world champion. You do not suck.”

“ _Junior_ world champion,” Eduardo corrects. ”I have a lot to prove yet.”

Somehow, Mark has no doubts that he will.

**

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and Mark finds himself at the ice rink, observing Eduardo’s practice. He hasn’t done this before, apart from that one time when he brought Eduardo coffee, but when Wardo called him in the morning and asked him to come, Mark couldn’t say no.

Eduardo’s coaches (the Asian woman Mark had seen there before, and a tall, dark-haired man) were not thrilled about that idea.

“Eduardo, you need to be focused,” the woman said, giving Mark a suspicious look, like he was there to sabotage Eduardo’s skates or spy for another skater.

“But he’s my best friend, come on, I want him to be here!” Eduardo pleaded with his best puppy eyes. In Mark’s opinion, the woman was doomed and he was safe. “Besides, it’s good for me to practice with audience before the competitions,” Eduardo added, smiling disarmingly.

The coach sighed. “Fine. Get to work, then.”

And now Mark is sitting there, in a small plastic seat, watching Eduardo practice jumps and spins, and other elements Mark can’t name but they do look damn impressive. 

Mark is definitely not looking at the way Eduardo’s ass looks in his fitted sweatpants, or how graceful his body lines are when he bends into complicated poses. 

When the practice is over, Eduardo skates up to the board in front of Mark’s seat, tired and sweaty, but smiling.

“Well? What did you think?” he asks, as if Mark was competent enough to have any opinion at all.

“It was great. Really, Wardo, very impressive,” he offers lamely, but well, what else can he say. It’s the truth.

“Really? I totally screwed up the landing on every Lutz I tried. I really need to get this right before I go to Paris.”

“If you say so. I didn’t notice anything wrong. And by the way, I’d kill to be able to skate like that.” It’s one hell of an overstatement, but Mark can see no harm in boosting Eduardo’s confidence a little.

“I could teach you!” Eduardo exclaims, excited.”There’s a public session coming up in a few minutes, we should stay and work on your skills.”

_Fuck. So there’s the harm._

Mark starts to protest, but Eduardo looks at him with those big doe eyes and adds a pout for good measure. Turns out that Mark is just a huge sucker after all.

The second after Mark steps onto the ice he realizes it was an even more terrible idea than he’d thought. The rink is slowly but steadily getting crowded, so beside worrying about his own sense of balance, Mark has to avoid other skaters. And some of them are really fast.

He’s determined not to move an inch until Eduardo agrees to go home, and Mark informs him of that right away. Eduardo just snorts, grabs Mark’s hand and drags him forward, almost causing Mark to trip over his own skates.

Mark’s not going to make it out of here alive.

“Come on, move!” Eduardo encourages him, laughing, and it’s easy for him to say. Mark tells him as much. “Oh come on, it’s not that hard, just watch me,” Eduardo says, and skates away before Mark can say anything. He follows him with his eyes, and of course that’s the moment he spots Eduardo’s fanclub from his school, standing a few feet away from Mark and making moon eyes at Eduardo.

Unfortunately, they notice Mark, too.

“What are you doing here, geek?” the girl who run away from him at school that one time says, and the rest of them are lining up behind her like bodyguards. “Trying to fall on your face as many times as you can? That’s actually a good idea, your face could only benefit from that.”

Before Mark can respond to this oh so clever insult, Eduardo skates over and stops abruptly right by Mark’s side, steadying himself with his arm around Mark’s waist. _Perfect_.

“Is there a problem, Mark?” Eduardo asks and narrows his eyes at the girls. He must have heard the conversation.

“Not at all, Wardo,” Mark replies, using the affectionate nickname totally on purpose. “I was just talking to some of your _fans._ ”

Eduardo apparently notices the emphasis on the last word and makes the right connection in his head. The girls look absolutely dumbfounded.

“Is that so?” Eduardo asks, raising both his eyebrows.

“Umm… yeah. I was just going to say that you were really great at Skate America and…” the girl from before stutters out.

“Thank you,” Eduardo interrupts her without a smile. “I’d love to stay and chat, but it so happens that you’ve just insulted my best friend, so I guess that’s not going to happen. Have a good day, ladies,” Eduardo says, and skates away with Mark, arm still wrapped firmly around him. 

“So, I _am_ your best friend, huh?” Mark asks when they’re at a safe distance. 

Eduardo gives him a wide, blinding grin in response, and tightens his grip. “Doesn’t mean you’re getting out of skating, so don’t get smug,” he says to Mark and moves to skate a little behind him, arm still wrapped firmly around his torso. “Move forward. Come on, I know you can do it.”

Mark tries. He slides his feet forward, slowly and carefully, and he’s sure he would already be on his ass if it weren’t for Eduardo holding him steady.

  


“Good, now turn around and take my hand,” Eduardo instructs him, and Mark tries to do just that, except before he can get a hold of Eduardo’s hand he loses his balance, flails out, and clutches at the first thing he can reach to keep himself from falling. He falls anyway, and Eduardo follows suit, since the thing Mark grabbed happened to be Eduardo’s scarf.

They just lie there for a second, Eduardo shaking with laughter on top of Mark, and Mark catching the eyes of Eduardo’s fans from across the ice. That must be the most hateful glare Mark has even been on the receiving end of, and that's saying something.

Mark actually kind of likes this whole skating thing.

**

On the first day of Eduardo’s next competition, Mark gets up at some ungodly hour in the morning, curses the time zones, and turns on the tiny TV in his room to watch his friend compete. 

When Eduardo’s turn comes he skates over to the middle of the ice surface, face serious and focused, but Mark can tell that he’s nervous.

The caption on the screen informs Mark that Eduardo will be skating to the instrumental version of _They Can’t Take That Away From Me._ Mark thinks it’s oddly fitting. He also thinks that Wardo’s costume is a sight for sore eyes in the sea of sequins and glitter – he’s wearing simple dark pants, a plain, white dress shirt and a grayish waistcoat with a subtle checkered pattern in front. He looks classy, and - Mark has to be honest with himself – pretty damn handsome.

  


Eduardo stops in the middle of the ice, facing the judges, and assumes his opening pose: he bends one leg slightly, digging the pointy end of his blade (toe pick, Mark remembers it’s called a toe pick) into the ice. His body is bent slightly forward, one of his hands resting on his hip while the other is propped under his chin, like he’s leaning on something invisible. He looks sassy and confident, just like he should.

The music comes on, and Eduardo starts moving. He straightens his posture, spins around once, then picks up speed and launches into his first jump. He lands it, and smiles radiantly afterwards. From this moment on Mark watches like he’s in some kind of a trance, not registering much of the details, but he can see that Wardo is brilliant, skating smoothly with grace and dizzying speed. 

When the music stops, Mark lets out a breath he hasn’t even realized he was holding. On the screen, Eduardo is waving to the audience, a blinding smile on his face. Mark is so proud of him that it almost hurts.

Which is an entirely ridiculous feeling, and Mark is not going to spend any more time analyzing it.

Eduardo places third after this program. There’s still one more day to go, but Mark is just so damn proud anyway.

Okay, so maybe he’s in denial. So sue him.

**

The next day, Mark gets up just as early – he hopes that Eduardo will appreciate his sacrifice when he comes back (they don’t talk on the phone this time, because calls from France cost a fortune, and neither of them is exactly Rockefeller.)

Eduardo looks just as focused as he did the previous day, and his program starts good - up until he falls on the first jump, some twenty seconds in. Eduardo gets up and keeps skating, a determined look on his face, and manages to land the next jump, albeit shakily. Mark fervently hopes that means it will be okay from there.

But Eduardo appears to have lost his confidence. He falls on yet another jump, and it’s just downhill from now on. Mark sits at the edge of his chair, listening to commentators talking about popped jumps, doubled triples, and unfinished combinations. He doesn’t understand half of what they’re saying, but it doesn’t prevent him from feeling white hot rage when they start musing about the high hopes the skating world had for Eduardo, and how he just couldn’t take the pressure of serious competition, and that it makes his future in competitive skating questionable.

Mark is sure Wardo is soon going to make them take their words and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.

When the camera closes up on Eduardo’s face after the program ends, he has visible tears in his eyes. Mark’s heart clenches in his chest at the sight of Eduardo’s devastated face, and he hates the fact that he can’t do anything to make it better.

**

Mark plans on calling Eduardo the day he gets back from Paris, but he never has the chance to do that. About two hours after Eduardo’s plane was supposed to land, there’s a ring on Mark’s door. Mark goes to open, just to see Eduardo standing in the doorway, rain-soaked and miserable.

“Wardo,” Mark says softly, letting Eduardo in and closing the door. Eduardo doesn’t reply, just drops his suitcase and duffel bag to the floor, wraps his arms around Mark in a forceful hug and hides his face in the crook of Mark’s neck. Mark’s hands come up automatically to stroke Eduardo’s back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. 

It seems to be working. After a while, Eduardo stops sniffling and pulls back from Mark.

“I’m getting you all wet,” Eduardo observes. His voice is still shaky. Mark really hopes that’s only because he’s cold.

“I don’t mind,” Mark says. ”Wardo, are you okay?”

Eduardo runs his hands over his face. ”I don’t know. I just… I wanted to see you.”

“Did you come here straight from the airport?”

“Um, sort of, yes?” Eduardo looks at Mark, uncertain. “I know it sounds… whatever, but I didn’t want to be alone at my apartment tonight.”

“Okay,” Mark says, simply, picking up Eduardo’s suitcase. “Come on, you need to change into something dry, or you’ll catch pneumonia.”

And when exactly did Mark turn into an overprotective Jewish mother?

Eduardo gives him a small smile, then takes his bag and follows Mark down the corridor to his bedroom. 

“You can stay over tonight. My family is out at the movies, but they won’t mind,” Mark says. “You get changed, and I’ll go find us something to eat.”

There’s nothing in the kitchen that’s within the realm of Mark’s cooking skills, so he just picks up the phone and orders a pizza, and then boils some water for tea. Eduardo needs some serious warming up.

When Eduardo walks into the kitchen a couple of minutes later, wearing black sweatpants and a light gray hoodie, Mark hands him a huge, steaming mug of tea with cinnamon syrup.

“Here, drink this. But I’m not making you coffee!”

Eduardo smiles, and for the first time that night he starts resembling himself. They sit at the wooden kitchen table, nursing their teas.

“Did you watch the competition?” Eduardo asks, breaking the silence.

Mark nods. “Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really…” Eduardo says, and then he lets out a frustrated groan. “Mark, I screwed up, I knew it would be like this! I don’t know what I was thinking even going there.”

“Wardo, don’t be ridiculous. That’s just one program, these things happen. You medaled last time and you rocked your short now. You’re allowed to make one mistake, you know?”

“But it wasn’t just one mistake. I melted down, and I screwed up the entire program. Maybe I’m not cut out for competition after all.”

Mark can see Eduardo’s argument going round in circles. If Mark doesn’t break it, Eduardo is just going to wind himself up further. Mark might not be equipped to comfort people in distress, but tough love he can do, and he has a feeling that’s the way to go here.

“Wardo, seriously, I’m going to smack you. Do you want to feel better or do you want a pity party? Because you’re on your own with the second option.”

Eduardo shoots him a look from underneath his eyelashes and pouts. “I don’t want a pity party,” he says. “And I do feel better, just being here. It’s just…”

“What?” Mark prompts, his voice softer now.

“Can I have another hug?” Eduardo asks in a small voice, and Mark will be damned if he can ever say no to that. He gets up and circles the table to where Eduardo is already standing up.  
Mark wraps his arms tightly around Eduardo, like he’s trying to squeeze all the good energy into him, and Eduardo clings right back, his breath quick and warm against Mark’s ear.

“Thank you,” Eduardo whispers, and Mark pulls back to tell him that he’s okay, he’s wonderful, and he’s going to win all the medals in the world because he’s Wardo, and that’s good enough. 

But before he can do that, Eduardo kisses him.

Mark’s brain seems to short-circuit for a split second, but then Mark grabs two handfuls of Eduardo’s hoodie and kisses back with all his might, putting all the feelings he’s had for Eduardo ever since he met him into this one kiss, just to send a clear message. 

Eduardo seems to get it, if the way he moans into the kiss and tightens his grip on Mark is anything to go by.

When they finally break apart, breathless and flushed, Eduardo is smiling his trademark smile, and Mark all but high-fives himself for putting it back on Eduardo’s face.

“Mark?” Eduardo breathes out, still smiling. “Is that… I mean, did you want this too?”

Mark looks at him incredulously. “Yes! Fuck, Wardo, you have no idea how long--” Mark doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because Eduardo is kissing him again, and Mark is definitely, absolutely not complaining. 

**

So Mark has a boyfriend. A _boyfriend._

Things don’t change very much, though. Eduardo still comes to the coffee shop every afternoon, and walks Mark home when his shift is over. Sometimes, Mark’s mom invites him for dinner, and they spend the evening in Mark’s room playing video games or watching movies. 

They go skating – apparently, Eduardo is now hell-bent on turning Mark into a halfway decent skater. Mark doesn’t exactly mind, since it requires a lot of hand-holding, gripping each other, and other forms of physical contact, which Mark hadn’t even known he liked until he met Eduardo.

Mark is back to being ignored at school, but he’s not sure how much of it is the natural course of things, and how much is the fear of Eduardo’s sharp blades. It seems that having a sort-of famous boyfriend pays off in more ways than one.

So, nothing really changes, except that now there’s kissing, and a lot more cuddling, and Mark is happier than he’s ever been in his life.

A day before Eduardo leaves to compete at the US Nationals, Mark gives him a gift. He bites down on his lip, nervous and possibly also blushing, and watches Eduardo open the velvety box and take out the pendant: a silver star on a simple chain.

“Um, I just thought... you know, for good luck. And also, so that you remember you’re a star. No matter what happens, you are,” Mark explains awkwardly, and Eduardo looks at him like Mark’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“Thank you,” Eduardo says, voice quivering, and when he hugs Mark he doesn’t let go for five straight minutes.

**

The day of the competition Mark practically sets up a watching party, determined to see Eduardo compete on the big screen TV in the living room – that’s his _boyfriend_ there, after all.

On the first day, Eduardo repeats his performance from Paris, and places third. 

On the second day, he steps onto the ice looking more focused and determined than Mark has ever seen him. Mark knows that Eduardo has been working hard to correct everything that went wrong with this program the last time, and that he’s as prepared as he could be. 

Which doesn’t mean that Mark is not nervous as hell.

He lets out a sigh of relief when Eduardo lands his first jump, and after that, all the other elements seem to just fall into place. Eduardo’s skating seems to be a little on the cautious side, as far as Mark can tell, but there are no major mistakes, and when Eduardo takes his place between his coaches in the kiss&cry area to wait for his scores to be announced, his smile is so wide it threatens to split his face in two.

Mark grins right back at the screen, not caring that his entire family is in the room with him. 

After the slow-motion replays of the elements of Eduardo’s program, the camera closes up on his face. Eduardo looks straight at it, fishes the silver star pendant from under his collar, and kisses it. Mark’s heart does a backflip in his chest, and possibly also a couple of spins. 

Eduardo’s scores on the screen tell Mark and everyone else that Eduardo is in the lead, and that means he will definitely get a medal, and it might be of any color. Eduardo almost screams from happiness as his coaches hug him from both sides. 

He ends up with silver. The stupid TV station does not show the medal ceremony, so Mark has no way of telling how Eduardo feels about his second place. Not until he gets a phone call about an hour later.

“Hey!” Eduardo greets him cheerfully.

“Wardo. How are you?” Mark asks cautiously, trying to determine whether Eduardo’s tone is sincere or is he just covering up the disappointment.

“How am I?” Eduardo sounds incredulous. “Didn’t you watch me on TV?”

“Of course I did, and you were amazing. Congratulations. But…”

“But what?” Eduardo laughs into the phone.

“You’re second, and that’s really great, but I know you wanted to win, so – are you okay?”

“Mark!” Eduardo exclaims, laughing even harder. “Of course I’m okay, are you kidding? Silver, baby! I’m going to Worlds!”

Looks like Mark has been worried for nothing. But, wait. “Did you just call me baby?”

“You bet I did. WORLDS, BABY!”

Mark grins helplessly into the phone. “I’m so proud of you, you know?” he says, voice soft.

“I know. Listen, I’m sorry, but I have to go. Press wants me. Call you later?”

“Sure! Go, be a star.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, and Mark starts to wonder whether he should just hang up, when Eduardo speaks again.

“Mark, one more thing. The Worlds. I mean, do you feel like taking a trip to Europe? You know, for moral support and stuff.” Eduardo sounds unsure. Seriously, like that’s even a question.

“Of course! That would be awesome, do you even need to ask?”

Eduardo laughs. “Great, settled, then. And now I _really_ have to go, so – talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye,” Mark says, and disconnects the call.

Mark wonders how exactly did he go from being a nerdy, antisocial barista to dating an internationally famous figure skater and travelling with him halfway across the world.  
He never thought he could like such a life, but now that he has it – he loves it.


End file.
